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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433100">The Final Death of Andromache the Scythian</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Penrose/pseuds/Beth_Penrose'>Beth_Penrose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>but we knew this had to happen eventually, cancer warning, i just... i love these characters so much, it's kinda Andy/Quynh but not real explicit, lol, lots of sadness tho, the major character death should be obvious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:08:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Penrose/pseuds/Beth_Penrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much what the title says. Andy's no longer immortal and there are consequences for that. Like dying.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Final Death of Andromache the Scythian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Shoutout to morise_de_risa for beta reading this for me!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>From the moment Andy realized she was mortal she began compiling a list of ways she expected to die. At the top of the list was a gunshot, naturally. Then a knife wound. Grenade was up there too, and exhaustion. It became a grim hobby of hers. At first the list was just in her head, a way to pass the time on their way to a mission or after one, when the fear and nightmares wouldn’t let her sleep. One night, though, when all the years lived refused to grant her sleep, she knew she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t spend hours staring at a blank ceiling, praying for the others to wake up and let her begin her day. So she got to her feet and began looking for a distraction. It came to her when she saw Joe’s sketchbook, lying open on the table. Andy picked it up almost delicately. The first page held the image of a heron, wading into a river. It was beautiful. Mentally asking for forgiveness, she turned to a blank page, ripping it out with one clean motion. Next to the sketchbook was a pencil, which she also grabbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting down at the table, she stared at the blank paper for what seemed like a lifetime. This was twisted, even for her. Mortality wasn’t something to play with anymore. It wasn’t a dare, or just another Tuesday. It was the end. And here she was about to detail it on the paper, a shining white beacon in the dark of the room. Finally, she picked the pencil up and wrote: </span>
  <em>
    <span>gun. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The dark lines on the otherwise unmarred sheet looked like a wound, like something harsh and final. They were oddly comforting. So next she wrote down: </span>
  <em>
    <span>knife. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>starvation. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She spent the whole night like that, racking her brain for all the ways she had died in the past. There were the practical ways, of course: </span>
  <em>
    <span>fire, falling, poison. </span>
  </em>
  <span>At times her mind took her to absurd: </span>
  <em>
    <span>stung by a bee, tripping onto a blade, fucking. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seemed like only minutes that she was writing, but it had to have been hours, because she was eventually startled by the sound of Nicky waking up. She quickly folded the page, now almost completely covered in dark lead, and shoved it in her back pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From then on every sleepless night she would take the list out. Sometimes she would add more potential deaths: </span>
  <em>
    <span>car crash, stroke, drowning. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That last one was the only one that was hard to write down. As her pencil blindly made the shape of the letters, all she could see was Quynh’s face. When she would look at the list later she’d notice a slight water stain, right in the middle of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>o</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though she hadn’t remembered crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took ages for anyone else to find the list. Joe had been doing some laundry for the team, when he stormed into the kitchen, one hand holding the list and the other curled into a fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Andy didn’t reply he repeated himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andy. What the fuck is this?” This time Andy pushed past him, muttering under her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s it look like, Joe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like a goddamn death list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then that’s what it must be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? You thinking of ways to die on us?” Joe’s voice rose in a way that Andy didn’t often hear. The last time had been at Booker, when Joe had discovered his betrayal. Andy was unmoved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to happen, Joe. Whether we want it to or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t mean you need to be fantasizing about it, for Christ’s sakes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else should I do? Sit around and act like it’s not going to happen? Like everyone else does? I’m over 6000 years old and I’m going to die. I can’t act like I won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, so let’s get it over with. Which of these do you prefer,” he demanded, shaking the list. “You want us to chop off your head? Leave you out in the cold? What?” His face was red now, spittle flying as he spoke. Andy’s face was impassive, as if her features were carved from stone. From behind Joe, Nicky put a tentative hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yosuf,” He spoke barely louder than a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Joe shot back. “She’s so desperate to die. Why wait?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you waiting for me to apologize?” Andy’s tone made it clear no such sentiment could be expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m waiting for you to be here, Andy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>where your family is. Not dreaming of dying somewhere alone.” Andy’s arms, which had been crossed across her chest, fell to her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to die.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. And when her eyes met Joe’s there was no fear there, no pain. Just pieces of blue ice, as cold and dangerous as an arctic wind. “And I’m not going to come back. That’s the truth. And seeing as how none of you have had to be in this particular situation, I don’t think you get to judge how I choose to live with that. Understood?” She held out her hand. After several seconds something in Joe’s expression changed and he held out the list, placing it in her still outreached hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here for you, Andy. You know that. So don’t act like you have to be alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t, you can’t be here for this.” Her features softened just a bit. Joe would have missed it if he hadn’t known her for so long. “But I’ll take it. For as long as I can.” Joe nodded, apparently satisfied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They had years together, before the symptoms. For Andy it felt less like a gift and more like holding her breath. She never knew that a decade could feel so long, and at the same time so short. It started with the nausea, driving her to the toilet at all hours. At first the others teased her, asking if she could be pregnant.  But then came the headaches, which felt like they were splitting her mind in two. She tried ignoring them, tried playing them off as nothing. But when Nile caught her in the middle of the night, clutching both sides of her head, mouth forming a slight O of silent agony, she put her foot down and insisted on taking Andy to a doctor. The first one wrote it off as anxiety, the second as stress. Every time they left a hospital Andy felt her frustration grow. There was something wrong with her. There had to be. She’d been alive long enough to know her own body. Finally, after months (or maybe years, Andy had never been great at keeping track of time) of bouncing between doctors, they got a diagnosis. Brain cancer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are new treatments we can try, aggressive ways to combat this,” the doctor offered. “But at this point we have to be realistic about the outcomes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Realistic? What does that mean?” Nile demanded. The anger and fear were twin tones in her voice. “You’re going to treat her and she’s going to get better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like that to be the case,” the doctor offered. “But we caught this so late-“ Nile interrupted him, insisting that it wasn’t their fault that the other doctors had been hacks. But Andy was done listening. All she could see was the doctor’s face, the pity in his eyes and his tone. It made her skin crawl, and she knew she was going to be sick. She dashed out of the room, barely making it down the hall and out a side entrance before heaving into a bush. She felt a presence behind her and turned to see Nile, standing over her shoulder. Andy couldn’t help feeling embarrassed at the show of weakness. She was grateful when Nile didn’t say anything, just led them back to the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drove in silence for several minutes, until the quiet was ruined by a strange noise. It took Nile a few seconds to realize that it was laughter. Laughter from Andromache the Schythian? And this was not just any detached, brief laughter, either, but full-blown guffaws. The most Nile had gotten in all the years living with the Guard was a wry chuckle at a naive question or silly joke. She’d seen Nicky and Joe derive a few peals of laughter while recalling a particularly wild mission.. This wasn’t like any of that. When Nile dared a glance at Andy her light blue eyes were wild, snapping with an electric sort of energy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she managed between bouts of laughter. “I’ve survived gunshots, knife wounds, hanging. You name it, I’ve lived through it. But this? My own body killing me? You gotta admit, Nile, your God sure has a sense of humor.” Nile pursed her lips, and didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got back to the house, Joe and Nicky were sitting in wait at the kitchen table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Joe was the first to ask. Nile shook her head, silently warning them to back off. The hint was either lost or ignored, because Nicky was quick to follow up, “What is it, Boss?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy didn’t answer, pushing past where Nile was blocking the attached living room to sit on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m dying.” Andy’s voice had no inflection, and her features were as settled as if she were discussing the weather. Clearly whatever had come over her in the car had gone, leaving her with nothing but the truth. The room was quiet for several seconds, as Joe and Nicky shared a few quick glances, obviously trying to process what was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Nicky finally asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tumor,” Nile answered, too tired and on edge to beat around the bushes. “It’s in her brain, but it’s already spread.” There was a beat of silence, before Nicky spoke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long?” It occurred to Andy that she didn’t know. That she had run out of the doctor’s office before he could provide any more details.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A month, maybe two,” Nile answered for her. That caused Joe to let out a few curses in a language Nile didn’t recognize. Nile had to silently agree. What was a month to them? Nothing but a blink of an eye, and Andy would be gone. She shoved her fists into her pockets to keep them from shaking. It didn’t help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy didn’t say anything. She got up from the couch, went into the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer. She poured the clear liquid into a glass, downing it in one gulp. When she looked up from her drink three sets of worried eyes met hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She asked. “What’s it gonna do? Kill me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are treatments,” Nile offered. “Ways to keep you alive longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Andy’s tone was even and firm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there’s a way—” Nicky started, but he was quickly cut off by a withering glare from Andy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve fought too many battles for too long. I’m not going to fight this, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused for a second to make sure that they all understood, before giving a satisfied nod and pouring herself another drink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ironically enough, they had more time than expected- six whole months to be exact. No one in the Guard knew how significant six months could be. Andy thought, bitterly, of all the time she’d wasted. Whole decades (and sometimes centuries) lost to grief, or apathy, or exhausted lethargy. And now all that was left was six measly months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first it was just the headaches getting worse. Until one morning (closer to noon, really), Andy shuffled into the kitchen, only for the sunlight streaming through the window to hit her in the eyes like an ice pick being driven right into her forehead, peeling into her brain. It was worse than any bullet or axe she had suffered before. Andy had suffered in ways that most people could only imagine. Still, she was surprised that something could hurt so much. She fell to her knees, knocking an abandoned coffee mug off of the kitchen table as she did so. Likely drawn by the sound of the cup hitting the linoleum, Nicky rushed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andy!” He called, rushing over to her. He tried helping her to her feet, but she pushed him aside, using the back of a chair to help pull herself up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Nicky,” She assured him. “It’s just, when did the sun get so goddamn bright?” It was supposed to be a joke, though Nicky didn’t laugh. Instead he rushed to close the curtains, returning to Andy’s side just as quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you back to bed,” He offered. Andy pulled herself away from his grip, more roughly than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I’m fine,” she snapped. Nicky drew back, stunned by the sudden harshness in her tone. He started to protest again, but the withering glare she sent him killed the words on his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, they kept the drapes drawn at all times. It pissed Andy off, knowing that such a small thing as sunlight could drive her to her knees. She was Andromache of Scythia. She had been revered as a goddess and feared as a harbinger of death. And now she couldn’t stand a little sunlight. And it pissed her off, too, that the others knew it, that they were tiptoeing around her weakness like it was a living beast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, there wasn’t much that didn’t piss Andy off recently. She knew it was the cancer that was causing her temper to flare near constantly, that drove her to throw a cup at the wall and watch it shatter when her hands shook too much to hold it properly. She just couldn’t bring herself to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few months the headaches were the least of her concerns, as she found every movement a battle harder than any she’d fought. Even getting out of bed, putting her feet on the ground, felt like a whole war. There were days when she wouldn’t even try. Instead she’d lay there, cursing everything about this existence and moving only to heave the few contents of her stomach into a nearby bucket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the being bedridden that did it, the need to just die and </span>
  <em>
    <span>get it over with. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Remembering Joe’s anger at the deathlist, Andy knew he wasn’t the right one to ask. And Nicky was about as likely to agree with Joe as not. Which left Nile. She was young, hadn’t yet had to live with the suffering of the years. And she certainly couldn’t understand what it meant to be slowly dying. But, still, Andy didn’t have a lot of choices. So the next time Nile came to bring her breakfast, Andy stopped her from leaving with a hand around her wrist. At first, she made the request stoically, without inflection. Nile could have sworn her heart stopped beating when she heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Andy,” She spoke barely above a whisper, as if terrified that the guys would hear. “I can’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to.” Despite her best efforts, notes of desperation crept into Andy’s voice. “I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep waiting to get worse. I can’t keep having you guys wait on me, like I’m old and infirm. Nile, I can’t have this be how I go.” Andy’s eyes were uncharacteristically wet with tears. They scared Nile enough that she backed away, easily untangling her wrist from Andy’s weakened grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing Nile’s fear, Andy felt her temper flare. She picked up the tray of French toast and orange juice and chucked it at the wall. Nile flinched back slightly before she could stop herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Andy muttered, refusing to meet Nile’s imploring gaze. “Just leave me alone.” Nile hesitated, and she must have lingered just a little too long because it set Andy off. “Get out of here!” She hollered, eyes flashing with a manic anger. “Leave me alone! Get out of here!” Unsure what else to do, Nile complied, backing out of the room at a pace that could only be described as scurrying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she shut the door to the room behind her, Nile leaned against it, as breathless as if she’d just swam a mile under water. It wasn’t until she finally looked up that she saw Joe and Nicky watching her. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t get a word out before the tears started, sobs wracking her body. The two men gently guided her to the nearby kitchen table and she allowed herself to sink into the seat provided. When the tears started to abate, she told the guys what had happened. She expected anger, or frustration. Instead she saw only pity and grief unnameable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do?” Nile finally asked, her voice raw from crying. “We can’t just kill her. But…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>But she’s in so much pain. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The silent end of the sentence hung between the three of them for several seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It truly is something,” Nicky finally spoke. “We have all this power, all of this immortality. And yet there is nothing we can do to save Andromache.” Nile didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept her gaze fixed on the wooden swirls of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>do it.” Nile was so surprised by the suggestion her gaze snapped up to meet Joe’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe,” she warned, remembering the anger in his features the last time he had suggested killing Andy, “this isn’t the time to be mad at her-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” he replied. And, true to his word there was no flash of anger in his eyes, or fire in his tone. Instead there was a simple resignation. “But Andy’s right. She’s not going to get better. She’s only going to get worse, and eventually she will die anyways. What is the point in prolonging any of it? In making her suffer?” Nile didn’t have a good answer for that. But she knew that this was something she couldn’t do. Frustrated and unable to listen any longer, she pushed away from the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going for a walk,” she offered by way of explanation. Over her shoulder she added, “Try not to kill our boss while I’m gone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a bit of a lie. Nile was going for a walk, sure. But she had more of a reason for having to get out of the house than needing to blow off some steam. She waited until she was around the corner, out of eyesight, to pull out the burner phone she always kept with her. She went to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>contacts</span>
  </em>
  <span> page, which only had one number saved. She hesitated, eventually taking a deep breath and pushing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>call </span>
  </em>
  <span>button. She knew that what she was doing was a risk. When the others found out- ooooh boy would there be hell to pay. But she didn’t know what other choice she had. If Andy got her wish then she didn’t have much time left. And Nile had made a promise. No matter what the others may think of it. After the third ring she heard the phone pickup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Booker. It’s me. She’s going to- She wants to-” Nile took a second to fight the lump in her throat. “You need to come to New York. Upstate, near Buffalo. You need to come now.” Nile hung up before she could hear his response. She knew Booker would come, because he knew she’d only call if it was an emergency. That had been their deal, years ago. She’d keep the burner with his number and he would be on call for the day that it finally happened. Nile knew that Nicky and Joe wouldn’t like it. But she couldn’t care less. Andy needed this, needed to see her brother in arms before she died. After that they could send Booker away for another hundred years for all Nile cared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she returned to the house she didn’t tell the guys what she’d done. It would just cause a fight, and Nile already knew that there was going to be one when Booker arrived, anyway. No use starting something prematurely. Instead, she headed in the direction of her room. She was just about to enter the hallway off of the main room, when she heard a scream from Andy’s room. She rushed in to see what was wrong and was met by the sight of Andy, arms flailing, face twisted in grief and pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just go away. Please, Lykon.” Nile spared a glance to where Andy was looking. There was nothing there. Andy was gasping, now, as if all of the oxygen in the room had abandoned her. She curled up in as small a ball as she could manage, whimpering as she did so. It broke Nile’s heart, seeing the strongest person she knew reduced to this. She rushed to Andy’s side, taking one of her hands in her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh… Shhh… Andy, there’s no one there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” Andy cried. “He’s there.” She pointed again to an empty corner of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No he’s not,” Nile tried to assure her. But the words were lost on Andy, who clutched her hands over her ears. She rolled over to face Nile, madness and fear battling for control in her gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is. He’s come to drag me to hell, where I belong.”  Nile didn’t know how to answer that, didn’t know how to assure Andy that the ghost that haunted her was a delusion, a product of her diseased mind. Instead she climbed into the bed and took Andy in her arms. Andy eagerly leaned into her embrace, still curled into a fetal position. Nile could feel Andy’s heart beat against her own, as her cries faded into whimpers, and then into silence. It was peaceful and steady, even as nothing else seemed to be. Before she knew it, Nile was asleep, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nile woke to the sound of a doorbell ringing. She jolted up, immediately rushing across Andy’s room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Booker. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She must have been sleeping for a while. That, or he had been close the entire time. Either way, one thing was certain: she had to be the one to answer the door. Unfortunately, Andy’s room was further from the front door than Joe and Nicky’s.  By the time Nile got out of bed they were already opening the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he saw Booker standing on their front stoop, Nicky reacted first, meeting Booker’s gaze with a glare that was pure ice. Though he didn’t move to attack, Nile could feel quiet rage rolling off of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing back here?” He demanded in a tone so steely it Nile felt goosebumps break out across her skin. Booker’s mouth flapped open and shut as he searched for the words to explain himself. Nile was about to interject, say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I invited him. He’s here for Andy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But before she could get the words out they were all stopped by the appearance of a woman behind Booker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman was stunningly beautiful, Vietnamese, with long, silky hair and sharp dark eyes. Even though they’d never met Nile recognized her instantly. This was Quynh. And the last thing any of them had known, she had been drowning at the bottom of the ocean. The three of them stood, stunned. Joe was the first to recover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quynh!” He cried, wrapping her up in a fierce bear hug. Nicky was next, seeming to forget about Booker all together as he interjected himself in the hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Quynh a few minutes to extract herself from the group embrace, but as soon as she did, she approached Nile with a friendly, open expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be Nile,” she said, offering her hand. “Booker’s told me all about you.” Nile, still stunned, took the offered hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yes. I’m- I’m Nile. And you’re- well, you’re Quynh.” Quynh chuckled lightly at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am. It’s nice to finally meet you. Now,” she added, addressing the group as a whole, “are you going to keep us on the step all day or can we go inside?” Joe and Nicky led Quynh into the house, Booker trailing awkwardly behind him. When everyone else sat at the kitchen table he hung back, leaning against a far counter. After the greetings and introductions died down there were several seconds of silence, as everyone searched for words. Nile felt the quiet pressing on her chest. After all, what could be said after 500 years of the torture Quynh had endured? Nice to see you? Finally, she cleared her throat, desperate to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Quynh, how long have you been…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been free?” Quynh supplied helpfully. “A little over a decade now, I think.” Nicky and Joe glanced at each other, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>who’s going to ask her? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Finally, Nicky spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you come find us sooner?” His voice held no accusation, just curiosity, and maybe a little bit of hurt. There was a flash of anger in Quynh’s eyes and they all could tell what she was thinking: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>find </span>
  </em>
  <span>me </span>
  <em>
    <span>sooner? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just as quick as it had been lit, though, the flame in her eyes was extinguished. It was replaced with a practiced coolness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I needed time.” No one dared press her on what that meant. “I’d probably still be gone, but Andromache- I have to see her.” Quynh’s tone wasn’t unsure. Or desperate. Or even sad. It simply was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Nile, Nicky, and Joe exchanged a look. For all their joy at seeing Quynh, none of them could forget the rage and insanity Nile had described in her dreams. For as calm and collected as she appeared before them, there was no way that madness like that didn’t linger. Quynh caught on to the silent questions they were asking each other, standing up from the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not asking,” was all she said. But her gaze was unflinching enough that the others could see that there wasn’t really a choice. Not if they didn’t want to be stuck killing each other for the next hundred years or so. Finally, Nile gave a relenting nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. But just so you know the cancer has been hard. She isn’t like she was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t matter. Not to me,” Quynh responded, pushing past the others towards Andy’s room. She shut the door behind her as she entered the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside the room it was dark, heavy drapes covering the window and sliding glass door. Once Quynh’s eyes adjusted she could make out the shape of Andy, turning fitfully in her sleep. As Quynh moved closer, Andy stirred, cracking an eye to see who had entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nile, is that-“ When she recognized Quynh her eyes grew wide with disbelief. Then she started whimpering, turning her back on Quynh and crying out. “No, no, no. You’re not real. Go away,” she pleaded, hands pressed over her ears and eyes squeezed shut, as if by denying her senses she could make Quynh leave. “You’re not here. You’re not real.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andromache,” Quinn murmured, lightly touching Andy’s shoulder. Andy flipped over, this time looking up at her with large, feverish eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Quynh. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let them take you. I should have found you. I should have looked harder. I- I should have…” Quynh didn’t know what to say to that. She knew that Andy had tried to find her, she truly did. But when she’d heard from Booker that they’d given up on her, and only after a few decades at that…. There was nothing that could be said that would take away the sting of that knowledge. But here Andy was, on her death bed, begging for forgiveness. So what could Quynh do but grant it? She took Andy’s hand in her own. What had once been the hand of a warrior, large and rough, was now little more than translucent skin and brittle bone. Quynh swallowed back tears, as she met Andy’s blue eyes. There was a time she could get lost in those eyes, staring for what felt like years. Now all she saw was fear and regret. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgive you, Andromache,” She managed, barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t your fault.” Quynh didn’t know if she believed that; she just knew it was the right thing to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you were really here,” Andy replied. “I wish I could actually see you again. If you were here I’d ask you to kill me. To end this.” Quynh shuddered at that. She knew what it was like to wish for death, to pray for anything that could end her eternal suffering. She just never thought that such a plea would come from the strongest person she knew. Recovering, Quynh leaned over, placing a kiss on her forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe tomorrow, love.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Left outside the room with nothing else to do, the others turned to Booker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you even doing here?” Joe demanded. “Who the hell told you to come?” There were several moments of terse silence before Nile hesitantly raised her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nile, what were you thinking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andy’s dying. Andy </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to die,” Nile argued. “I’d say the rules kind of go out the window.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We agreed-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Nile snapped back. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> agreed. I didn’t agree to shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. You’re part of this team. That means we all have to be on the same page. You can’t just decide he’s forgiven and-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not deciding anything,” Nile interrupted. “This isn’t about you, or me, or Booker. This is about Andy. She deserves to see her family again. Her </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole </span>
  </em>
  <span>family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not our family!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get to decide that!” Nile shot back. She and Joe had been gradually moving closer, until they were only a few inches from touching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yusuf! Nile!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Nicky interjected, shoving himself between them. “Andromache is right on the other side of this wall. Do you want her to hear this?” That was more than enough to shut them both up, though the glares they shared seemed nearly as loud in the small kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you known about Quynh?” Nicky finally asked Booker, as if changing the subject could diffuse the lingering tension in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten years?” Booker offered shakily. “A little more? She found me a few months after…” He glanced down at the floor. “After everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why you?” Nile asked. “Why not us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… because she was angry. She had just escaped the ocean and she couldn’t see you yet. Not when she’d been trapped for so long while all of you were free… While you had given up on her.” Nile remembered the nightmares she’d had about Quynh, the feeling of drowning over and over. Regaining consciousness just long enough for her lungs to start burning, for the pressure to lay on her chest like a ton of bricks, of eyes stinging from the saltwater. If that had happened to her and her loved ones were free, breathing and walking and seeing the sunlight… well she could imagine why Quynh would have a hard time seeing them again. Which brought to the front of Nile’s mind a sickening thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s alone with Andy,” she gasped. “What if she’s still angry? What if-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Booker interrupted. “She kills Andy? Didn’t you say that’s what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we should do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nile, we discussed this. She’s dying anyway.” Nicky’s voice was full of pity, though Nile couldn’t tell if it was for her or Andy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know that,” Nile shot back, desperation creeping into her tone. “Miracles happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Booker said with a heavy sigh. “But it’s been over 200 years and I have yet to see one.” Nile didn’t reply. How could she argue with that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ironic, isn’t it?” Nicky asked, the hint of wry laughter in his throat. “Eternity before us and all we want is more time.” No one knew what to say to that and the room fell into an uneasy silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that night found Nile unable to sleep. When she closed her eyes all she could see was Andy, expression twisted in pain. Her voice echoed in Nile’s mind, screaming at people who weren’t there. Sighing heavily, Nile rolled over in bed. The clock on the nightstand read 3:19. Giving up the idea of falling asleep, she got up and began to shuffle to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help clear her head. When she entered the kitchen she was surprised to see Booker already there, pouring tea from a kettle into two mugs. He looked up when Nile entered, clearly just as surprised to see her. He recovered quickly, though, pointing to the kettle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just making tea. Do you want a cup?” Nile nodded and Booker grabbed another mug from the cabinet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s the other cup for?” Nile asked, pointing to the other one on the counter already. Booker looked down and to the side, unable to hide the shame in his expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andy,” He replied, barely louder than a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’ve talked to her then?” Nile asked, taking the cup of tea he offered and going to sit at the kitchen table. He nodded, joining her. They were silent for a few minutes, sipping their tea. Finally, Booker broke the quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She asked me to do it, Nile.” That didn’t surprise her. If Andy couldn’t get one of the others to kill her, she’d have to try someone else. She probably played on Booker’s guilt, something he had in spades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to?” Booker didn’t reply and that was when Nile remembered the second cup, now sitting between them on the table. She didn’t want to ask if it had been poisoned, if this was really happening. But she had to know. In a swift motion, she picked up the cup and swallowed it in one gulp. The last thing she saw as her world faded to black was Booker’s expression, a mix of shock and shame. When she came back, Booker was watching her expectantly. “What the fuck, Booker?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s suffering, Nile. And, after everything I’ve done, I owe her this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you were going to do it without telling us? Without giving us a chance to say goodbye?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t risk any of you stopping me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, this isn’t right. It’s just not. I’m going to get Joe and Nicky. And Quynh.” As she rose from the table, Booker grabbed her wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” his tone was almost begging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll hate you for this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” And judging by Booker’s expression he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>know. “That’s why it has to be me.” Because of anyone he was the most suited to take on that hatred. Because he’d already written himself off. Because he knew that even if he had waited a hundred years to come back it wouldn’t be enough time to repair the rift he’d torn between them. Because this was his penance. And because if he didn’t do this someone else would have to eventually. And then they would hate that person as much as Booker knew they would hate him tomorrow morning. And he couldn’t put that on anyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even still, Nile knew this wasn’t right. The others couldn’t go to sleep one day and wake up the next to just find Andy gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t about you. It’s not about your guilt or forgiveness or shame. This is about Andy. And she deserves to have her family around her when she dies. So if you’re bringing her that tea then I’m going to wake up the others.” Nile’s voice was firm, and the steel in her eyes said that this was not up for negotiation. Seeing that this wasn’t going anywhere, Booker tried a different tactic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought that you didn’t want this.” Nile thought of the sleepless hours she had just endured, tossing and turning, trying to find a third option between killing one of her closest friends and forcing her suffering to continue. But no matter how she tried to parse it out there were only two choices. Which meant that there was really no choice at all. She swallowed hard before speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t. But this isn’t about what I want, either. Now, go get Quynh. I’m going to go wake up Joe and Nicky.” There was no room for argument in Nile’s voice as she extracted her hand from Booker’s grasp. She turned to head in the direction of Joe and Nicky’s room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knocked on the door before entering, a move that she realized was pointless as she opened the door to find Nicky a few feet away, looking sheepish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard.” It wasn’t a question. Behind him, Joe nodded solemnly. Nile didn’t know what to say, so she just gestured mutely to the kitchen that she had just come from. The guys followed her as she led the way across the room, stopping just outside Andy’s room. Suddenly, Nile wasn’t sure that she could do this. Her hand fell from the doorknob she’d been holding, and she could feel it shaking with nervousness. She suddenly felt nauseous, her eyes tracing a path to the nearest restroom. An arm around her made her jump, but when she looked over she realized it belonged to Joe. He gave her a reassuring, if somewhat weak, smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” He asked. Nile wasn’t sure how to answer that, so she just nodded. On her other side, Nicky grabbed the doorknob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready?” He asked, looking less than ready himself. Nile knew she wasn’t ready, and would never be ready for this. But what choice did she have? She nodded again, hoping that the others wouldn’t be able to see the lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together the three of them entered the room to find Booker and Quynh already there, each on one side of Andy’s bed. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon outside the glass sliding doors on the other side of the room. A beam of moonlight fell across Andy’s face and Nile had to fight back tears. Andy had always been the strongest person she knew, but beneath the pale light of the moon she looked like a completely different person than the infallible warrior that Nile knew. Her face was thin and etched in pain. When she lifted a hand to greet them her skin seemed nearly translucent. Nile felt a pang in her heart. She wanted the Andy she knew back, more than she’d wanted anything before. Forcing a smile, Nile approached the bed. When Andy took her hand, Nile was shocked by how light it felt, like any wrong movements would break her into a thousand pieces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, Nile was hit with a wave of guilt. This is what Andy had been trying to avoid, not just pain but having her family see her like this. She had wanted a quick death, a warrior’s death. And Nile had wanted to deny her that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sort of awkward tension fell over the room as Booker realized none of them knew what to do next. One of the consequences of being immortal was that it had been a while since any of them had had to contend with a real, permanent death. Almost instinctively, they all turned to Booker. After all, he was the last to lose family. Realizing what was happening, Booker cleared his throat nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Andy. I’d say I’m sorry, but, well, you already know that. I’m sorry for what I did to you. And more importantly I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you as you went through this. That my actions meant that the time you had left, ten whole years, were spent without me at your side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, Book,” Andy managed with a chuckle that seemed to wrack her whole body. “You must be the sorriest person I know.” And even though she didn’t say it, everyone knew what she meant: Booker was forgiven. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before returning his gaze to his own feet. And once again, the room was silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Andy urged, a hint of humor in her tone. “If you got anything to say, now’s your chance.” No one laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Joe spoke up. “You are the best of us, Boss. That’s the truth. And we can heal from a lot, but not this. You’re leaving a mark like a tattoo on all of us. And it will be what reminds us to be better people, people who want to do good just to make you proud.” He glanced at Nicky. Nile could see them hold hands briefly before Nicky leaned forward, taking Andy’s face in both his hands. She looked even smaller, being held by those two large hands. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Andromache, for everything. For being our family.” Andy grabbed one of his arms, giving it a faint squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was never alone,” she said. “You were always there for me. Through my loss,” she glanced at Quynh, “through everything. So thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you?” Asked Joe. “Death is making you soft, boss.” No one could resist a chuckle at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were silent again, everyone looked at Quynh. She shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I have to say to Andromache she already knows.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Then it was Nile’s turn, and she found she wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to this woman she’d grown to love, to consider her family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she also knew she had no choice. So, clearing her throat, she picked up Andy’s hand again and gave it a light squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know what to say, Andy. I’ve resented you, God knows. I mean, when all of this started I was scared and angry, and my whole world was coming apart. Those were my hardest days and every time I turned around, there you were, and it just made me so angry,” Nile stopped for a couple of seconds, taking a deep breath. “But still, you were there. I could have gone through this alone and because you came for me I didn’t have to. So, thank you. Thank you for coming to find me. Thank you for being my family. Thank you for teaching me how to live this life. And thank you for putting up with my bratty little ass.” Andy smiled at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did stab me,” she replied, tone light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After you shot me.” Everyone smiled at that, now a fond memory, but it didn’t take long for solemnity to fall back over the room. Nile looked down at the fresh mug of tea that Booker must have brought with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time,” Nile said. “Isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy nodded. “Yes, it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile took a deep breath before picking it up. The cup was lukewarm by now, and Nile thought, almost absentmindedly, that maybe she should microwave it before handing it over. Feeling as if she were forcing her muscles to move, Nile handed the mug to Andy. Andy’s hands started shaking, even the light weight of the mug almost too much for her to hold. Nile grabbed her hand, helping her to steady it as she lifted the cup to her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long after that. First, it was as if Andy’s body was slowing down, her words slowing and slurring as she exchanged jokes and memories with the others. Finally, her eyes got heavier, and staying awake at all was clearly taking its toll. Before letting her eyes drift shut she took in the others, one last time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she managed, “I guess this is it. Take care of each other, alright? And try not to be assholes about it.” She let her eyes fall closed, as her breathing became shallower. This part took longer than Nile would have liked, the part between unconscious and dead, as they all stood in a circle around Andy’s body, watching her fade from life. Eventually, the breathing stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like a spirit had left the room, leaving an empty vessel laying between them. Quynh fell across Andy’s body, letting out a terrible cry. It was the sort of sound that could only come from true love and it sent a shiver down Nile’s spine. Nile didn’t pray much anymore. The habit belonged to a girl from a different time. But God knew she was praying now, her mouth silently shaping the words she wasn’t even sure that she believed in anymore. But Nile didn’t know what else to do. So she prayed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they had to leave the bedroom. Nicky gently pulled Quynh back, off Andy’s body and as one the group shuffled into the kitchen. Booker put on a new kettle of tea, while Joe and Nicky began making plans to dispose of the body. Because that’s all that Andy was, now: a body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile was going to be sick. She pushed past the group, making a beeline for the nearest bathroom. She got there in time to get most of it in the toilet. Something inside her felt repulsed and volatile and it needed to get out</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Out of this situation, out of the house with Andy’s empty body, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>out. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Over her shoulder, Nile could distantly feel Nicky holding her hair back, and could hear Joe bringing her a cup of water. When she was finally able to stop gagging, Nile got up and accepted the glass, gurgling it into the sink. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, the person staring back at her looked terrible. Red eyes and tear stained cheeks greeted her, even though she couldn’t remember crying, and the little pieces of vomit still flecked her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, you guys,” she managed to croak out around the acidic feeling in her throat. Joe nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in the kitchen, Booker was staring intensely at the warming kettle, as if he could make it boil faster and that would make anything right again. Quynh sat in the corner of the dining table, silently watching them as tears rolled down her cheeks. Nile sat next to her, taking her hand. Quynh flinched when their skin touched, still unused to human contact. Nile tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she knew it fell flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the quiet of the kitchen, the sound of the tea kettle screaming made Nile jump, nearly out of her own skin. When Booker started pouring mugs, he pulled his flask out, pouring a healthy dose of gin into his own cup. When he was done, Nile held her hand out expectantly for the flask. When he handed it off, she spiked her own drink, then passed it on to Nicky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few gulps, the liquid burning her throat on the way down, Nile felt a little less raw, more grounded, more in the moment. She looked at Quynh, who hadn’t touched her cup and was staring into a distance only she could see. Nile gave her hand a squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andy told me once that she was worshipped as a god. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that?” Quynh stared at Nile for a second, as if still pulling herself out of the fog of her memories. Finally, her lip quirked ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I did. After all, when in Rome…” The night passed like that, Quynh telling stories, with Nicky or Joe interjecting every now and then to correct a detail or add some colorful descriptions. Occasionally, Quynh would fall silent. Before she could fall back into her grief, Booker would pick up the conversation, telling another story, or a joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the sky outside was lightening, they were feeling—not better. A pain like theirs was not one that could be easily—or ever—erased. But the stories served as a balm, something to soothe the ragged, unbearable grief. Looking out the window, Nile was able to catch the first light of a rising sun. The first sunrise in over 6,000 years without Andromache the Scythian in the world. Choking back more tears, Nile grabbed the flask from the middle of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To Andy,” she declared. “I hope she finally found peace.” Everyone else nodded along, raising their glasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To Andy!” Nile glanced over at the closed door to Andy’s room. Thinking of the body that lay just beyond, she took a generous swig from the flask, relishing in the sting of the gin as it snaked down her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To you, Andromache</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please tell me what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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